From Crafting a Bookshelf to Riveting a New Aircraft: Build-a-Plane Adventure, Part 2

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Last week, Davin Coburn headed to the Pacific Northwest to learn about one company's revolutionary new build process for their high-performance kitplane—and then to go for a test drive, to figure out what it was like 180 degrees from a midtown Manhattan office. Catch up with his journey by clicking here, then learn how to build your own plane below...

It's known as the "51 percent rule," and it forms the backbone of everything that happens in Glasair Aviation's build shop.

For five decades, the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) has licensed amateur-built aircraft—and designated them "experimental"—when the "major portion has been fabricated and assembled by persons for their own recreation or education," according to Federal Aviation Regulation 21.191(g). There are more than 27,000 licensed homebuilt aircraft today.

On the other hand, the Experimental Aircraft Association estimates it takes as long as 3000 hours to build a plane. With the standard distractions of family and a job, that project might well take a decade to finish.

Hence factory-assist programs, like the one at Glasair. As long as the owner of the aircraft does the "major portion" of the work—or 51 percent, as it's colloquially known—the FAA signs off. Through spreadsheets and checklists, Glasair has taken the build process for its beefy Sportsman 2+2 aircraft and broken it into roughly 130 basic projects that ultimately complete the plane—including engine, prop, wiring and avionics (crucial components that are left out of some kits). Not only that, but Glasair stomped the gas pedal: With assistance and constant monitoring from the company's mechanics, the plane can be built in as little as two weeks.

Where does all that saved-up time come from? "Sixty percent comes from having all the tools, jigs and parts for each stage of assembly laid out ahead of time," says Marc Cook, editor of Kitplanes magazine, and the man who went through the pilot "Two Weeks to Taxi" (TWTT) run. "Not just having them there, but organized for your use, with all the pages of the manual for that segment laid out with tools."

It's a 2-on-1 program, with one technician guiding you through a project while a second technician lays out the next step. There's a reason production lines are so popular—and surely the government doesn't care if someone else sorts the unholy number of rivets, or shows you some tool you never knew existed.

The approach means that Glasair isn't just selling this to people who've always wanted to build a plane—they're marketing this to the people who never knew they wanted to build one. Since the program began in September 2006, about 25 customers have completed TWTT. The total cost for the plane and program begins just shy of $145,000, and increases with optional upgrades. So why would someone plunk down 145 large—then pick up a pneumatic rivet gun?

The Sportsman 2+2 is something like the SUV of the airplane world. With two full-size seats up front, and two smaller seats to haul children or camping gear, the plane cruises at 150 kts (with a 210hp Lycoming IO-390) and has a useful load of nearly half a ton. And with a takeoff roll of 400 ft., a max-gross-weight climb rate of 1200 feet per minute and a set of tundra tires, this plane will also touch down on a riverbank or a dirt strip—and get you back up in the air without sawing the top off a pine tree.

The performance characteristics are what convinced Alan King, a 60-year-old retired civil engineer, to build a Sportsman. "I wanted to be able to go cross-country fast, so I looked at a Mooney or a Beachcraft—but those were half a million dollars and up," he says. "I looked at a Cessna 182—but I also wanted to go backcountry, to land on gravel bars for great places to go fishing. At my age, I can't throw 60 pounds of gear on my back and march off to go camping any more."

King agreed to let me spend two days helping with his build (the FAA allows it as long as I'm an unpaid volunteer)—and King was hard at work when I arrived at the customer assembly center at 7 a.m. I had no clue what to expect: I'm competent enough with a drill, but building a bookshelf and building an airplane are two very different animals. Luckily, there was little time to overthink things.

I was greeted by Ted Setzer, Glasair's R&D manager and a man who joined the company just after its inception in 1979. He walked me through the program architecture, and explained that cell phones get turned off now. If I have a BlackBerry, I might as well stomp on it.

From there, it was Riveting 101 on back-room scrap metal. I drove rivets, I drilled rivets, I bucked rivets. And soon enough, they sent me to King's real left wing, laid out across a table. I helped mechanic Seth Town install a fuel tank and attach the fuel lines—and I began riveting.

I mixed vinylester resin and applied fiberglass cloth to the seams on the wheel pants. I shaved-to-fit the aft shearwebs—aluminum bracing at the back of the plane that support help the horizontal stabilizer—then corrosion-proofed them, drilled my bolt holes and locked them down.

Before I knew it, I was helping hang the wings and ratcheting struts in place.

When 5:30 came and we called it a day, I was beat (and a little beat up: Reaching into the wing's inspection holes—then through lightning holes in the wing ribs so you can crank a ratchet wrench—is a good way to dent your arms), but exhilarated. I was actually helping build an airplane.